


When You Strike The Matches....#16-12-12

by Palytoxin



Series: Love & Pride [10]
Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: A little angst?, Fluff, Laver cup 2017, M/M, fragments, unbeta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 05:46:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16056770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palytoxin/pseuds/Palytoxin
Summary: It has been a long long time since he felt such enthusiasm for an event last time. He hopes his jet could fly faster. He can’t wait for those matches coming. After all these years, finally, they can team up together.





	When You Strike The Matches....#16-12-12

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really bad at long stories. It may look disoriented or like a lot of fragment putting together. But Laver Cup 2018 is coming. Too sad Rafa is not there this year. 
> 
>  
> 
> Please be free to comment～it's alway pleasure to know your thought or get kudos.  
> Thanks for reading~xoxo

He has participated in numerous events and promotions before. However, this, this is different, this is HIS. He chose the place, he chose the date, he chose the trophy, he chose the logo, he chose everything. And the color, it’s what he feels whenever he steps on court. Everything goes monochrome, only his opponents, himself and the ball are vivid. And Rafa, Rafa is always an impact of vision, so colorful, so intense, so brilliant,————so overwhelming that he could hardly tear his eyes away from him. Sometimes he is just too distracted to return properly. But this time, it isn’t that kind of situation. He doesn’t have to worry about that top-spin forehand whipping towards him anymore. He can just stand aside and see, enjoying those beautiful and lethal shots sweeping across the court. He can’t wait for seeing his plans be carried out. It has been a long long time since he felt such enthusiasm for an event last time. He hopes his jet could fly faster.

 

***

 

The weather is pleasantly cool and matching well with his black jacket. He is happy about that. The autumn Prague is golden everywhere like a vintage film. It reminds him the last year. He flew to Manacor to help Rafa opening his academy. This time is Rafa who comes to help him for Laver cup. Both of them are theirs. No way this would fall, nor would they.

  
He reserves the suite next to his own for Rafa. He wants to know his arriving at once. He knows his flight must be very very late. He flew from New York, too. But as a natural creature as Rafa, he would open the door and step to the balcony as soon as he enters the room whatever weather or time. He wants to wait for him.

  
It’s past midnight when he hears the clicking sound from French window doors of next room. He goes out.

“Hi, champ”  
“Don’t call me that.” Rafa pouts. Roger knows he doesn’t like that people praise him too much, but he just can’t stop teasing him since that “boyfriend” stuff. He is too cute for a man at his age.

“Why you still awake? It’s late.”  
“You know... jet lag...” he waves his hands nonsensely.  
“Standing outside is the weirdest way I’ve heard to deal with jet lag.” Rafa lifts his left brow dramatically.  
“Hey, can you just stop being so mean? You know I’m waiting for you.”

They burst out giggling, like numerous time they have done before.

“It’s good to see you, Rog. But you should sleep and I should too. I want to check the court before the parade starting.”  
“I go with you.”  
“It would be very early, don’t you need a half day sleeping in no match d—“ Rafa bites back right after he realizes what he just said. It’s too intimate. It’s hard to keep distance with Roger after he flew to Paris seeing him last year. The conflicts between them alleviate as time passes by. Roger notices as well, he can tell from his eyes. He waits for Roger’s response, heartbeat raising up.

“It’s you who is always late in early practice sessions, you’d better show on time, or I’ll break into your room.”  
“Hey! Who is that can’t stop being very mean?!” They're both laughing to tear. It's always so easy with the accompany of each other.

“Roger, seriously, you should go sleep. You look tired.”

It’s true. He was busy all day, meeting with staffs, checking all the details, talking to numerous people that he couldn’t recall their name five minutes later. He gives his all to make this work. He can’t sustain any possibility that it would fail. Too many thought in his mind, too much excitation, too much worry, he just doesn’t feel any sleepiness.

“I can’t sleep...I don’t know why it suddenly became so hard, I’ve been on the circuit for more almost twenty years and never have sleep problem before...”  
“Maybe because you’re already an old man and play too less, rest too much?”  
“You bastard!” Roger slaps him hard on the shoulder.  
"Hey! You'd been called for violence!" Rafa just can’t stop laughing, wrinkles creasing around his eyes. He is still amazingly beautiful with that infectious smile.

“C’mon Rafa, come and sit with me, we can talk.”  
“we talking now.”  
“It’s too cold to stand outside. Ra—fa———“  
“Si, si. No know who the older one.”

It ends up that Rafa and he lie side by side on his king-size bed talking nonsense and almost dozing off until something beeping fiercely.  
“———What?!”  
“My morning alarm, it’s time to gear up!”  
“It’s only 3 A.M.!”  
“I told you it would be very early!!! Vamos Rogelio!”  
“I hate you! I need my espresso machine....”

 

***

 

Rafa’s team is waiting in the lobby. They’re used to Rafa’s habit of checking the court first before anything. But they never expect an annoyed Roger Federer stepping out from the lift with a beaming Rafa pushing him forward from the back.  
“Rogi decided to check the court with us!” He announces with a goofy smile.

They rearrange the cars, Roger with Rafa, Lüthi with Rafa’s team. Even after they got into the car, Roger hasn’t stopped making a face.  
“Don’t be so sulky. I make you coffee after we finish?” Rafa pats him on the knee.  
“You don’t even have coffee beans.” Roger just rolls his eyes irritatedly.  
“I find the way, no?”

  
When Roger steps onto the court, Rafa is stunned. Suddenly, he isn’t sure if he were still sleeping. He has kept dreaming of this scene again and again. Nothing around him was important, time stopped, the voices faded and the stands were no more than mist. Roger and he were alone(#1).

Then a ball passes him and hit the LED wall.

“Stop dreaming, Rafa! Get the fucking check over quickly. I want my coffee.” Roger is yelling.  
“So impatient!!!” Rafa shouts back.

They start hitting the ball back and forth, forehand, backhand, volley, smash, feeling the vibrations and rhythm passing through the strings and racquets. It’s not a serious practice session. They don’t make difficult shots. It’s more like some kind of testing to show how they think and act. They’re grinning to each other. It has been so long since the last time they practiced together. When it comes to the end, they walk towards the net and meet naturally as if it were a match, hands clapping, wet temples pressing to each other.

“It’s amazing, Rogi. You did a wonderful work.”  
“You like it?” Roger smiles proudly.  
“I.... saw this many times, in my dream.” Rafa averts his eye, speaking reluctantly.  
“Is this why you just stared blankly?”

Rafa nods almost sheepishly.

 

They go back to the hotel silently in the back seat of the sponsor’s car. Roger doesn’t dare to ask whether he was in those dreams or not. Rafa doesn’t dare to say that he also saw Roger in his dreams too. He remembers those dreams clearly, always long game, fifth set, 8-7, Federer advantaged. He watched Roger bouncing the ball a few times, tossing it high into the air, then swinging his arm, all elegance and beauty. He never returned that serve successfully, not even once.

 

***

 

Back to the top floor, Roger opens his door and sees a big carton with many small items inside laid in the hallway.  
“Oh, here they are.” Rafa is peeking behind him.  
“You really meant it.”  
“Of cause, you have my words.”

He helps to move those small boxes to the kitchen island. Rafa is never a fan of coffee. He seldom drinks it except for trying the taste. Roger is glad that he is one of the few people who know Rafa really making good coffee.

Rafa lines the tools up meticulously like he aligns his bottles on court. Roger takes the seat on the opposite and watches him grabbing a handful of coffee beans, savoring the aroma, smiling contentedly. The muscle-flexing of Rafa’s arms while he turning the handle of the hand mill is always a good scene to watch. The fragrance escapes as the mellow beans being ground. Rafa boils the water, reading the temperature, holding the swan neck kettle carefully, then pouring the water into the cone to make the coffee grounds blooming.

Roger loves watching him making coffee just like he loves watching his pre-match preparation. Rafa is so gingerly as if making coffee for him were the only important thing in the world.

“I miss this.” The scene is almost nostalgia.

Rafa hands a cup to him without saying a word. His face is inscrutable.

  
He doesn’t imagine that the next four days he'll be awakened by the attractive aroma every morning.

 

***

 

They meet the other players in the lobby. Everyone is in a similar gray suit with the same color pocket square representing one’s team, blue for Europe, red for the world, champagne in hand. Sponsor's SUVs are waiting outside. These are total that kinds of staff that Roger loves, expansive car, luxury clothes, good wine. He mutters then Roger shoots a glance at him. 

"You like them too. Your yacht is super luxury and also your watch is way more expensive." He can't protest against that. He really loves his yacht.

  
The parade is so good. The weather is cool with the clear blue sky and shining sun. Everything is just right as the plan. The crowds are ultimately supporting, shouting, screaming when they show up.

“This reminds me Doha, maybe I should do the flying carpet next year?”  
Rafa frowns at him and snorts disapprovingly.

He thought about Doha as well. They did a lot of promotions before. But Doha was special. They planned it together. They once played on water under the golden flame-liked sunset. Roger was not familiar and comfortable with water like him. He grabbed his hand too tight that even hurt. They moved carefully, hitting easy shots back and forth. No one except them both was on the floating surface. They're isolated. The atmosphere around them was just so peaceful that it has kept linger in his mind.

  
“ Still have problems with height?” Roger grins widely.  
Rafa bends his lip upside down. “ I’d rather play on water. It’s safer.”  
“ You know I won’t let you fall.”

He suggested the flying carpet as a revenge for the second year. It’s quite fun to see how Rafa was annoyed. But what he remembered the most was the last year they promoted it together. He was too busy to check what the organizers planned to do and Rafa was occupied by the recovery progression, not in a mode to care about any other things. Somehow they thought after they had had earth, water, and air, no way the fire would be left. He felt a little bit awkward right after he entered the amphitheater lighting by thousands of candles. Too romantic. He worried about how Rafa reacts. But the only sound he heard was the little exclamation with surprises from the Spaniard. He turned, seeing Rafa’s smile widening with the sparkles dancing in his eyes. That late evening ended up very pleasant and they had pretty much fun. It took him some effort to convince Rafa that it's ok to hit by the side of the fire. He looked like a little kid seeing the birthday cake, but stepping around a little bit too carefully. This had been one of those happy memories he cherished in mind for long.

 

***

 

Although he has known this man is perfect in suits from the first day they’ve known each other. Although he has already seen him in his newly-made black tie before in New York (Roger insisted that he should go to the tailor with him. He admits he doesn’t have a good taste as Roger. But he has improved a lot, no?) He still feels his throat tightening and his breath taken away when he sees Roger coming out from the dressing room.

He suddenly feels lucky than ever that he reached no. 1 position and is spared from introducing speech. He has no idea what he should say. He is too self-conscious and timorous like once he was seventeen and knew too less about English.

“What do you gonna say?”  
“Want do you think I’m gonna say?” He is too familiar with this playful tone from the Swiss.  
“Tell me!!!” He grabs Roger’s should. He is getting more restless than before he asked that question. He sees the mischief in Roger’s eye that once appeared frequently when he was too young and too ditzy that Roger kept making fun of him.

“You know even I tell you now, I’ll say something else when I step on the podium, don’t you?”  
“Rogi!”  
“It should be a surprise, don’t spoil it, Rafa.”

He hates the way Roger smirking!

 

***

 

As the opening time comes closer, Roger’s control freaks almost recurs. He can’t stop himself patrolling around the hall, checking every detail again and again and again. He struggles to suppress his temper as he finds any super-tiny flaws. Rafa drags him to a spared room before he bursts out from frustration.

“Roger, let those ladies do their work. You too nerves, it’s okay.”  
“Do you think it would be great?”  
“Why would this not be great?” Rafa frowns. He presses their forehead together firmly and steadily, putting his hands on Roger’s shoulders and squeezes.  
“You here. I here. No way this could fall.”

They fall back to their old pattern unconsciously. Rafa tames his anger easily like he had done countless times many years ago. Those soothing words from Rafa always work for him more than from any other one.

 

***

 

Sascha is on the podium, introducing Roger. It reminds him that once he was at that position, putting most wonderful words he knew on Roger, looking up at him with big starry eyes.

Sometimes he misses those youthful days, happy-go-lucky without any sadness. The days he was the youngest on the tour, everyone treated him like their little brother. Andy taught him English, dragging him to numerous novel things that he never imagined. He misses Marat, too. They met before he came into the circuit. He wasn’t really the badtempered guy he showed on the court. And his countrymen, they're always around him, taking care of him, never let him alone wherever he went to play. The days he didn’t have so much pain over his body. He went everywhere for every ball as he wanted, running, jumping without being restricted. The days he cared nothing except tennis, no secrets needed to be hidden, no bothers keeping him awake all night.He sees Roger stepping onto the podium, knowing that he would be attracted by this man, again and again, no matter how many times it goes back to his twenties.

  
Rafa can’t stop grinning as he hears those speeches at the backstage.

 _I never thought I was going to introduce this player to you guys, or in my life, so......_  
_Where shall I start?_  
_It started a long time ago, a little guy from Manacor came to Miami and beat me in the first match I’ve ever played against him when I was world No.1._  
_I thought he was probably going to win the French Open once. Didn’t think it was going to be ten times but..._  
_Absolutely amazing career and it’s wonderful to have you......on our team._  
_Please welcome Rafa Nadal._

No, this is not the truth, not even close. He knew this boy would be great at their first match, although he refused to admit it at that time. And now look at him, he even no needs to mention all he has achieved. He is the achievement itself. It’s wonderful to have you, not on our team, it’s wonderful to have you in my life......

He watches Rafa walking toward him, beaming, sparkles dancing in his eyes. An unexpected thought abruptly comes up into his mind. If this were not in the Laver cup, but in another space. If this were not about tennis, but only about them two. He is too shocked that he suddenly forgets what to do now. But Rafa just holds his hand and drags him into a half hug. He hugs back. He is so glad for Rafa's all-time composure. He can’t wait for those matches coming. After all these years, finally, they can team up together.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> #1: from Rafa's blog on official website a long long time ago


End file.
